A True Gentleman (Regency Love Book 2)

by M. A. Nichols

  And then the silence stretched out. A long, deathly stillness. No wheezing. No coughing. Nothing.

  Tabby shifted Phillip upright, laying him over her shoulder to thump on his back.

  “Breathe, darling,” she said, but he lay unmoving in her arms.

  Her hand struck his back harder, hoping it might help. That somehow it might clear his lungs. Draw in a breath. Anything. For there was nothing else she could do.

  “Breathe,” she said, her hands shaking. “Please breathe.”

  Tears filled her eyes as the silent seconds wore on.

  “Breathe for Mama, Phillip!” she begged while sending out a litany of prayers for even the tiniest of movements from her son.

  “Please…” she said, closing her eyes. She could not face this. Not this. Not her Phillip.

  A crackle of sound came from his lungs, and Tabby’s eyes shot open. Pounding on his back, she crooned to him. Phillip coughed as though his lungs were ripping apart, but he took a great sucking breath, and Tabby felt as if she could breathe again.

  “Oh, my little man, thank you,” she whispered as she rocked him.

  On and on, Tabby hummed and clutched Phillip, nursing him through each agonizing breath, praying that it was not his last. And that someone would come to help her.

  Chapter 27

  Graham’s eyes scoured the roadside for any sign of Tabby as the carriage rumbled towards her home. She should have returned to the Park hours ago, yet there was no sign of her. Though Mina and Simon cautioned him, Graham could not stop himself from calling a carriage. If Tabby had not sent word, there must be something wrong.

  “We’re here, sir,” said the coachman as the horses pulled to a stop in front of a series of cottages that were more hovels than homes. Sickness twisted his stomach as he looked at the dilapidated wreck that housed Tabby and Phillip. Graham’s cramped berth as a midshipman had been more inviting than this.

  Not allowing himself to dwell on it a moment longer, Graham alighted from the carriage and knocked on the front door. Scant moments later, it flew open, and Tabby stood there, eyes wide and red.

  “What is the matter?” asked Graham, staring at her tangled mess of hair and the clear streaks of tears on her cheeks.

  “Phillip is sick,” she said, and Graham heard a rasping cough inside the cottage that was so strong it made his own lungs hurt. “Joshua went for the apothecary, but he has not returned, and I don’t know what to do.” Her words grew frantic, her breath hitching with each one.

  Another barking cough came from the loft, and Tabby hurried away and up the stairs. Graham followed after her, though his ruined leg could not handle the steep steps. Holding onto a rung, he watched Tabby tend to Phillip, lifting the limp child and rubbing his back. Her eyes met his, tears falling down her cheeks, and Graham wanted nothing more than to bundle them up and take them home, where they would be watched over and cared for. But Graham knew he could not do that.

  “I’ll fetch the physician,” said Graham.

  “We cannot afford him,” whispered Tabby, clutching her son.

  But Graham refused to acknowledge her words as he hobbled out the door. If there was any chance that medicine could heal Phillip, Graham would make certain he got it. Climbing into the carriage, he bellowed his directions to the coachman.

  ***

  Holding Phillip in her arms, Tabby had no room in her mind to think of anything else. She had not thought as to why Captain Ashbrook had appeared on her doorstep, but she was grateful for any help. And she had no doubts that he would return with it in all haste.

  But the knock on the door came far speedier than she had anticipated. It was as though it had been only minutes since he left, yet there was Dr. Clarke hurrying through her home and up the stairs to Phillip. Moving away, Tabby stood at the bottom of the steps to give the physician all the space he needed.

  “How long has he been like this?” he asked while pulling open his medical bag.

  “He was feeling tired yesterday, but I thought nothing of it,” said Tabby, wringing her hands. “I had to leave last night for a few hours, and when I returned he was burning up.”

  Taking a deep breath, Tabby tried to calm herself as she recounted the events of the evening, but tears poured down her cheeks as she described the details. The physician asked a few more questions, and someone squeezed her fingers. Looking down, Tabby was shocked to see her clasping Captain Ashbrook’s hand. She had no idea when she had reached for him, but she allowed herself a brief moment of comfort before she released him.

  His eyes glimmered as he held her gaze. “It’ll be all right,” he whispered.

  “Will it?” asked Tabby, too aware that nothing in her life was all right at the moment.

  Motioning her to the table, Captain Ashbrook opened the cupboard door. For a brief moment, the captain’s control slipped, and Tabby saw the dark glower he gave the near empty pantry. But then it was gone, hidden beneath a calm facade as he pulled out a loaf of bread and brick of cheese. With easy movements, he sliced some up and placed it on the table before her.

  “You need to eat something,” he prompted when she stared at it. “It won’t do either of you good if you faint because you neglect yourself.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Captain Ashbrook reached over and gave her hand another quick squeeze, his eyes telling her more than any words he might speak. The strength of it was terrifying and elating all at once, and everything that Tabby could’ve ever wished to see.

  Picking the food up, she bit into the tasteless food, watching as he readied a kettle on the hearth. The minutes ticked by as Captain Ashbrook forced food and drink upon her. Listening to the physician’s movements, Tabby felt her heart breaking. She could not lose her son. Could not. He had to get better. Tabby sent out a silent prayer, begging for any sort of divine intervention.

  Eventually, Dr. Clarke came down and set his bag on the table. “It is influenza,” he said, fiddling with the clasp. “And a serious case at that since it has traveled into his lungs. However, he is a strong lad with a good constitution, and it looks as though he made it through the worst of it, so I am optimistic that he will pull through. The medicine I gave him should ease his cough and let him rest a bit.”

  Retrieving a few small bottles, Dr. Clarke gave Tabby instructions on how to administer each tonic and powder. Pausing, he studied her a moment and then pulled out pencil and paper to write down the detailed instructions.

  “You look ready to collapse yourself, Mrs. Russell,” he said, handing it to her. “You must rest, or you will fall ill, too. There is not much more I can do here, though you can send for me if—”

  The front door swung open, and Joshua staggered into the room, bumping into Dr. Clarke before collapsing onto a chair. Tabby stared at him for a brief moment before ushering the physician out of the room with all the proper gratitude and goodbyes. Through design or accident, Tabby did not know, but Joshua did not speak until the door was firmly shut behind Dr. Clarke.

  “What is he doing here?” he asked, glaring at Captain Ashbrook.

  Seeing his bloodshot eyes and hearing his slurred words, Tabby’s heart pounded in her chest. “He is doing what you—Phillip’s father—wouldn’t do!”

  Joshua’s jaw slackened, his eyes widening. “I tried, Tabby! I went to the apothecary’s house and his shop, but he wasn’t around. I waited for hours out in the dark and cold, but he never returned.”

  Tabby loomed over him, her hands shaking. “Then where is the money I gave you? The money that we need for food and medicine for your son?”

  Joshua’s eyes drifted and his jaw tensed, and she recognized the signs of falsehoods being strung together. “I was worried about the boy. I couldn’t stand the waiting and needed something to ease my mind.”

  Tabby banged her fist against the table, making Joshua jump. “Get out. Now!” she barked.

  “This is my house!”

  “And I have a child to nurse,” she said, g
rabbing the medicines and marching to the door to yank it open for him.

  “Are you truly upset about a few drinks?” he asked. “This is ridiculous, Tabby!”

  “Ridiculous?” Tabby fairly hissed the words, and she stomped to his side, leaning over until her nose nearly touched his. “Phillip stopped breathing. I held him in my arms as he struggled to stay alive. Do you know what that is like? Holding your dying child and being unable to do anything about it? Of course you don’t because you were out drinking away the money for his medicine. Phillip was fighting for his life while you were getting drunk.”

  Joshua gaped at her, his eyes showing the first honest bit of concern and guilt she’d seen in many a year, but it did not matter to her at present. Phillip was her sole focus, and she had no more time to deal with his sniveling father.

  “Now, get out!” she said, pointing to the door.

  Phillip gave a wet, rattling cough, and Joshua looked to the loft, though he could not see the child from where he sat. Glancing at Tabby, he nodded, and struggled to his feet, stumbling outside.

  “Perhaps I should go, too,” said Captain Ashbrook, and Tabby flinched. In her anger, she had forgotten the gentleman was standing there, and if she had less on her mind and more energy, she would be embarrassed, but she was too exhausted to care that he had witnessed such a scene.

  Captain Ashbrook shuffled to the door, stopping for a brief moment to look at her. “Please keep us apprised of Phillip’s condition,” he said, his hand clutching his cane in a white-knuckle grip. “And if you should need anything further, do not hesitate to ask.”

  Tabby held his gaze for a scant moment and saw his whole heart in his eyes. And she had not the strength to hide her own. Not now. Standing there in silence, their souls spoke out as clearly as words, confessing the depths of their affections and speaking the words they could not give voice to. It was a look that held a world of wishes and hopes and all the agony that went with each impossibility.

  “Thank you for your assistance, Captain Ashbrook,” said Tabby when she finally found her voice again. “But I must attend to Phillip.”

  “Of course,” he said with a deep bow. The remnants of her broken heart shattered at the shine of tears in his eyes. And then he stepped through the door and out of her life forever.

  Tabby’s eyes slid closed, her hand coming to her lips. It felt as though her heart had been torn from her chest, but there was nothing to be done. She had made her choice all those years ago, and it was no use to wallow in regrets. That had been Tabby’s guiding principle throughout these unbearable years, but until now, it had been only she who had suffered the consequences of that impetuous decision to marry Joshua. Hearing Phillip’s ragged breaths above and Captain Ashbrook’s faltering footsteps outside, Tabby knew she was not the only one paying for her mistakes anymore.

  Turning away from the door and such useless thoughts, Tabby climbed the stairs and curled up next to Phillip. Brushing her fingers across his clammy forehead, Tabby watched her little man sleep.

  *

  Graham was no stranger to helplessness. After the last year, he had become well acquainted with the feeling. Being immobile had given him a new sense of weakness that he had never known before, but standing on Tabby’s doorstep, Graham knew he had never understood what it meant to be powerless. He could do nothing more for Tabby or Phillip. He could not comfort them or provide for them any more than he had already. Paying for the physician had already crossed the line of propriety. Not that Graham cared. With Phillip’s life on the line, he would have done far more than merely throw aside convention.

  Gritting his teeth, Graham breathed through the tightness in his chest and swallowed the lump in his throat. As Tabby often said, “There is no undoing the past.” Graham only wished it were possible to ease the heartache that came from it, but time was the only remedy.

  Stepping away from the cottage, Graham ambled to the carriage but halted at the sight of Tabby’s husband collapsed in the ditch. Graham’s heart pounded in his chest, a flash of heat consuming him as he marched over to the disgusting lump of a man. With a quick poke of his cane, Russell’s eyes opened, staring up from the mud.

  “You,” he grumbled, struggling to get that one syllable out. The look on his face made it clear he had meant to shout it, but the man was too far gone. Rolling over, he jerked to his feet, slipping and falling on his face a few times before he got his balance.

  “You are poaching my woman.” This came out with more force, and Russell shook his fist at Graham before lunging. Even with his injuries, Graham easily dodged the sloppy punch, and Russell stumbled, falling onto his backside.

  “I have done no such thing, you pathetic excuse for a man,” said Graham, glowering at him.

  “Poaching…” he mumbled. “She’s mine. Not yours.”

  “Then act like it, Russell!” Graham growled, forcing himself to rein in the less than choice words he would rather say to the man. No matter how much he wanted to let loose those foul words, Graham held onto his control for he would not stoop to Russell’s level.

  “What is wrong with you?” said Graham, jabbing him hard enough to leave a bruise. “You have that incredible woman and child in your life, yet you treat them like garbage!”

  “But I love them…” he slurred.

  Graham leaned over him, his teeth grinding together as he let his unadulterated fury burn in his eyes. “Then stop treating her like a drudge. Stop wasting your money on drink and cards, and take care of your family. I am no cad and would never blacken her virtue, but I would have no compunction in doing everything in my power to provide her the life she deserves if she ever left you.”

  “She cannot,” said Joshua. “Phillip is my boy and she’s my wife. The law says they belong to me.”

  Graham’s teeth creaked under the pressure of his jaw as he scowled. “There are ways and means, sirrah, so do not test me. If I had to spend every last farthing to make Tabby and Phillip safe from you, I would do it. If she merely hinted she wished to be free of her sniveling worm of a husband, I would beggar myself to do it.”

  “What?” Russell’s eyes widened, his jaw slackening.

  “Though I would never have to go that far,” said Graham, his voice lowering until it was little more than a growl. “There are always ships in need of a crew, and with little more than a word, I could have you pressed into service on a vessel so vile that you would beg to be cast overboard and drowned in the sea.”

  Russell lay there in the mud, trembling, but Graham knew there was one more thing left to say. “And so help me, if you ever give your son reason to cower again, I will find you and acquaint you with true pain and fear,” he said. The look in his eyes promised violent retribution, and Graham stabbed the cane at Russell’s chest once final time. “Do we understand each other?”

  Russell nodded, his eyes filling with tears. Turning to the carriage, Graham left the man blubbering in the mud.

  Chapter 28

  Something brushed Tabby’s cheek, and her dreams faded. She had no idea when she had fallen asleep, but as the blackness cleared and her eyes cracked open to the hazy room, Tabby realized she must have. And that was when she saw Phillip’s blue eyes staring at her.

  “Darling!” she gasped, shooting upright to test his temperature. A flush of fever remained in his cheeks, but his skin was dry, which was a blessing from heaven as she had no more clean sheets or nightshirts to put him in. After two days of agonized watching and waiting, Tabby breathed a sigh of relief. Phillip was truly on the mend.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” she said, kissing his forehead. “You had Mama very worried.”

  His brow furrowed, but he gave her a faint smile. It was one of the greatest things Tabby had seen in a good long while.

  “Where’s Papa?” he asked, glancing around the loft.

  Smoothing his blankets, Tabby smiled. “He had some important business that took him away, but I am certain he will return soon.” Heaven forgive her for the lies, bu
t there was no power on earth that would force her to tell her son the truth: Tabby had no idea where Joshua was.

  “Let me get you something to eat,” she said.

  “Cake?” asked Phillip with a tired smile.

  “No, darling. We don’t have any cake, but it would not be what you should eat if we did. I have some soup,” she said, making her way down the stairs. “And perhaps a little bit of bread.”

  “With butter?”

  She paused on the final step, looking at his precious face for a brief moment. “Yes, with butter.”

  Bustling about the cottage, Tabby opened the cupboard. Though there was precious little in there, they had enough to make a decent soup. Pulling out vegetables, Tabby laid them on the table, freezing when she spied the remnants of the food Captain Ashbrook had served her. It was such a small thing, but her heart melted at the memory. It was enough that he had saved her son by fetching a physician as quickly as he had, but he had then waited on her, caring for her in the only way he could. It was perhaps one of the dearest acts of kindness she had ever received.

  Brushing away a tear and clearing a spot, Tabby went to work chopping and dicing. Phillip’s breaths rattled in the background from time to time, but there was nothing desperate in the sound. He was getting better. No doubt it would be days before he returned to his usual self, but knowing that he was past danger allowed Tabby’s nerves to calm. Popping in bits of this and that into the pot, Tabby readied the meal, stoked the fire, and set the soup to cook, feeling a hint of normalcy in the movements.

  But when she turned, she caught sight of someone through the window. At first glance, she thought him a vagrant sitting in front of the cottage. It was not a terribly unusual sight, but the way he watched her was unsettling. It wasn’t until she got a good look that she realized that it was her husband beneath the grime. That moment of peace evaporated in a trice, burning up in the anger flaring in her chest.